


Make A Deal

by Baneberry



Category: Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Bondage, Consensual Violence, Knotting, Multi, Rough Sex, Spanking, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome, mild dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hard lady to impress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make A Deal

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for toonqueen on tumblr. She asked for Thunderhoof/her OFC (Venison, who looks like [this](http://ohhicas.tumblr.com/image/116493637923) for visual aide) as well as a Venison/Steeljaw/Thunderhoof threesome. The fic is rated M for bondage, rough sex, consensual violence, a little dubcon, and knotting. I was also asked to use “valve” over my usual “channel.” Hope you like!

Of all the mechs in the world to be disappointed in, Steeljaw did not expect Thunderhoof would be one of them.

The self-proclaimed leader of the Decepticon motley crew had placed Thunderhoof on security duty for the night while the others rested. He’d relieve him in a few hours. It would probably get boring, yes, and there wasn’t much to do _if_ you weren’t keeping constant vigil and moving around the area in regular sweeps. But Steeljaw believed Thunderhoof to be a fairly reasonable and flexible mech, given his profession, and the former mafia don didn’t argue or even roll his optics at him when Steeljaw gave him the night shift. Everyone else usually complained or threatened someone weaker/smaller to take the job in their place.

Everything seemed to have been going well, at first, too.

Steeljaw’s chronometer alerted him he’d been in stasis for almost two hours now. The sound of metal clanging and loud snarling instantly woke him from slumber. His senses were more keen and attune than the others, who remained fast asleep and snoring away. Steeljaw immediately gathered to his feet, metallic ears pricked and tail going stiff. He gathered a weapon and headed outside; assess the situation, then call for back-up if necessary. He was sure Thunderhoof could handle a few Autobots by himself, but still–Steeljaw’s group was small, and he wasn’t willing to lose any teammates. At this point, even the most useless Decepticon was important and valuable.

Steeljaw easily tracked the noise down, coming from nearby the base. Somewhere toward the edge of the forest keeping them hidden from the outside world. A strange but familiar scent wafted through the air; hardly noticeable to anyone, but Steeljaw could pick it up from almost a mile away. It took him a moment to realize what the smell was–-or _what_ it smelled like-–and he honestly hoped it had nothing to do–

Nope. Steeljaw’s first guess was right. A few minutes later, he was suddenly stumbling to a halt in the shadows nearby a small clearing in the forest. His yellow optics bulged from his head, the plating along his tail rippling and flaring. To his shock and awe, there was no fighting as Steeljaw had been expecting.

Rather, the exact opposite. Though certain… elements might suggest otherwise.

Thunderhoof wasn’t alone. Venison was there–no surprise; where he went, she followed, but she wasn’t suppose to be on duty–chained to a tree? She’d been strewn up, hanging from sturdy, thick branches. Her legs had been forcibly spread, though she wiggled and whined, attempting to close them. Thunderhoof could see her valve cover was open, leaking a few droplets of lubricant (the source of the smell he had hoped was anything but).

Thunderhoof stood between her open legs, grinning smugly with a cygar pinched between his teeth. “You’ve been a naughty li'l fem, Vennie,” he sneered. Smoke trickled from the corners of his mouth. “Almost got yer head blown off lookin’ at some shiny dirt-rocks durin’ today’s fight. I told ya you’s was gonna get a good spankin’, heh.”

Venison mewled. “Spank me, then!” She yanked and pulled at the chains around her wrists. “Spank me, boss, please!”

Steeljaw was still uncomfortable, and yet… curious as to where this was going.

Thunderhoof laughed. “Won’t be much-a punishment if you’s gonna like it,” he said. One hand drifted between his legs, and when Steeljaw looked down, he only now realized the tractor Decepticon was pawing at his growing erection, pressurizing harder from its containment. He grunted as he squeezed the head of his unit. “‘Sides. I changed my mind.”

Venison looked both concerned and excited. Steeljaw wasn’t sure how she did it, either.

“Insteada turnin’ that pert li'l aft of yers nice an’ purple, think I might frag ya into the ground,” Thunderhoof threatened. He reached up, taking her by the chin; she pursed her lips and whimpered, meeting his gaze. “Until tears come outta those pretty jewels'a yours.”

Venison swallowed. Steeljaw swallowed.

“Would ya like dat, girly?” Thunderhoof sneered, squeezing her chin tightly. His free hand continued working his unit in a slow, but harsh rhythm. Nothing that would get him overloading any time soon, but at least enough to keep him nice and busy. His thumb moved up, forcibly prying between her teeth. “Want me ta 'face you’s so hard you’ll be cryin’ for Primus? Screamin’ out fer mercy?”

Venison moaned and closed her optics, happily sucking on the thumb pressing down against her tongue.

Steeljaw finally snapped out of his daze. He realized he’d been watching this… strange courting for almost five minutes now. He moved quietly through the bushes, into the clearing, but not too close. Thunderhoof was still threatening (in the best ways) to rip Venison’s valve apart as she started lapping at his tongue like some little dog. Still, at this distance the two should have seen him, so he waited a few seconds–

No. Stop getting distracted. Focus. Thunderhoof was suppose to be on guard duty. Venison was suppose to be recharging; tomorrow was a big day for her and the others.

“Ain’t no one gonna help ya if you’s bleed o–”

“ _Ah-hem._ ”

Instead of mortification or shameless apologizing, Thunderhoof and Venison ignored Steeljaw. He cleared his throat again, a little louder. This time Thunderhoof did look up, but that expression of amusement and arousal stayed firmly in place.

“Ayhoo, if it ain’t Steeljaw,” Thunderhoof said. He rolled the cygar from one corner of his grin to the other. “Hope we’s wasn’t too loud.”

Steeljaw folded his arms across his chest. “You’re lucky I’m the only one you… disturbed.”

Thunderhoof smirked. He withdrew his thumb from Venison’s mouth; the femme whimpered, trying to snatch it back between her teeth before his hand was too far away. “Well, since yer here,” Thunderhoof said, “you’s wanna jump in?”

Steeljaw blinked, tail flicking aside. “Pardon?”

“A piece of the action,” Thunderhoof sneered. He blew a cloud of smoke in Venison’s face. The smaller Decepticon coughed, but did not seem offended. “You, me, an’ my ol’ lady here.”

Steeljaw’s optics brightened. He felt a rush of heat run down his backstrut. Before he could respond, Thunderhoof turned the dangling femme aside, just enough to show her open valve to the group leader. Thunderhoof dropped his free hand from his very large erection. “C'mon,” he said, “when’s the last time ya had yerself some fun? As a mech much like youself, I know you’s got a lot ridin’ on yer shoulders, but it ain’t healthy t'keep all that stress pent up.”

Steeljaw snarled, trying to ignore the fact his spark was racing. “You are suppose to be on guard duty,” he stated, “when’s the last time you did a perimeter check?”

“Ain’t no need t'worry, _boss_ ,” Thunderhoof smirked, as if he were simply humoring the slightly smaller mech. “C'mon. I’ll let ya do whatever ya want t'her.” He gently slapped her on the aft, earning a squeak. “Consider it a gift for our fearless leader.”

Steeljaw’s right ear twitched.

Thunderhoof leaned against Venison, wrapping an arm around her thin waist. “She’ll do whatever ya want. She’ll do anythin’.” He lightly pawed at her inner thigh, smearing a line of lubricant along the light-colored steel. Venison shivered but did not protest or argue. “'Specially if I’m callin’ the shots. Venny-dear likes takin’ orders.”

Steeljaw wasn’t sure what to say at this point. Part of him wanted to lecture both Decepticons for their slacking off and disobedience. The other part of him was a little hot under the collar and couldn’t stop staring at the hand stroking Venison’s thigh. Before he could respond–either part of him–Thunderhoof suddenly dug his fingers into the large tires connected to the femme’s hips. It didn’t take much to pull them off; two forceful, hard yanks.

The shriek Venison made wasn’t necessarily one of pain. Rather, it was a mixture. Her cry settled into a low moan, and she bit her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. Beads of lubricant dripped from her valve, and Steeljaw quickly realized she’d just gotten a little wetter from having parts of her…

“Dat ain’t the only thing you can rip from her, know what I mean?” Thunderhoof sneered. He let the tires fall to the ground, hands moving to grasp at the smaller pair on her shoulders. He dug into the treads, massaging and tugging at the rubber. “Well?” he smirked over Venison’s whimper, drawing circles around her hubcaps. “I don’t hear you sayin’ no.”

Steeljaw cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly very dry. “This is… highly inappropriate,” he grumbled.

“Don’t be like dat,” Thunderhoof said, cygar clenched between grinning teeth. His right hand dropped from her shoulder-wheel, sliding down along her abdomen. He stroked the open folds of her wet valve, spreading her open just a little wider. Venison gasped then squeaked as he pulled on her tire, nearly dislodging it from its socket. She smiled, widely, still chewing on her bottom lip. “Really, you can do whateva ya want wit’ her.”

Steeljaw watched them for a moment. The way Thunderhoof tore his fingers into the rubber of the tire, pushing at the folds of her valve. The anger was starting to subside with fascination and morbid curiosity. Venison was more of a masochist than he originally thought.

“We’ll even make it a game, if you’s want,” Thunderhoof offered. “You do whateva you want t'her wit'out makin’ her overload. In return, you owe her.” He turned and exhaled smoke against the side of Venison’s head. “Sound 'bout right, toots?”

Steeljaw squinted. For some reason, this… actually sounded intriguing. Wouldn’t be too hard, he’d imagine. She seemed close on the edge, anyway. He’d make it nice and quick without disappointing. A little cuddle and a kiss to the cheek, then untie and send her back to the bunks. He could do that.

Venison mewled. “Whateveeer just gimme more!” She bucked her hips into the hand caressing her valve. “You’re both so sloooow!”

“Don’t be rude, Venny,” Thunderhoof said, plucking the cygar from his mouth. Steeljaw gasped as he ground the hot tip of the cygar into a seam along Venison’s thigh. Wisps of smoke billowed from the burning dermal metal. Venison screeched, almost trailing off into a high pitched giggle; she instinctively jerked away, only to have the cygar rub in a little deeper before Thunderhoof pulled it free. Slid it elegantly back between his lips and took a drag. “Steel here’s gonna show you’s a good time. Show 'im some respect.”

“I never agreed to play your little game, Thunderhoof,” Steeljaw said, calmly and firmly.

Thunderhoof snickered. “If ya want, I can still keep a look-out,” he offered. “Make sure you’s two ain’t disturbed.”

“Yesyesplease!” Venison whined, still riding the waves of pain pulsing from the cygar burn.

Steeljaw stared at the two another moment. Thunderhoof relaxed and smug, Venison bouncing in her chains and wiggling with desperation. “This is highly…” he trailed off into low mumbling, but found himself walking over. He stared at Venison’s face–her flushed optics, her pursed lips–then down between her legs. After considering a moment… Steeljaw raised a hand, dragging his claws ever so delicately down her thigh.

Venison shivered, but that was it.

“Aw, c'mon; you can do bettah than dat,” Thunderhoof teased. He demonstrated by slapping Venison across the face; her head jerked aside with a small snap, cheek dented from the blow. He snatched her up by the chin, squeezing and shaking it. “I said she likes it rough. If this pretty face is too much-a distraction, I can turn 'er around. Maybe you’s like dat better–takin’ the femme from behind. You’s an aft mech, ey, Steel?”

“Or I can turn her around _myself_ ,” Steeljaw growled, ears flattening back. Thunderhoof smirked. “Let me attend to Miss Venison. You…” He hissed. Dammit. Well, there was no longer denying the fact he was too hard to pass this up. “… Just get back to work.”

Thunderhoof let Venison’s face go, saluting playfully. “You’s got it, boss.” He turned and walked away, a little swagger in his hips.

Steeljaw waited until he was a short distance away before finally letting his codpiece open, unit pressurizing instantly. He felt a little better now. Venison stared down at it with a shimmer in her optics, excited and even more eager.

“So you like it rough, do you?” Steeljaw asked. He wrapped his claws around her hips.

Venison purred. “Let’s see what the big bad wolf can do.”

Steeljaw growled, lips pulling back to show fangs. Well, he was here now, might as well go all the way. No holding back. His grip around her waist tightened, almost threatening to crush the armor. He leaned in, taking a cord along her throat between his teeth and biting down, hard. Venison squealed and writhed. Steeljaw snarled, increasing pressure until he could taste a few beads of energon.

Thunderhoof had stopped about ten feet away. He turned around, watching from the shadows of the trees with a wide grin on his face. This ought to be good.

Steeljaw raked his sharp fingers down Venison’s body, leaving behind grooves, tearing easily through dermal plating and malleable armor. Metal shrieked, sparks of electricity popping. Venison gasped out for more, even as his claws easily tore off a piece of hip armor. He dragged them up her thighs, digging them into groin seams, threatening to cut through peripheral circuitry.

“Nn, yes!” Venison cried, throwing her head back. “M-More!”

Steeljaw bit into a shoulder tire, carelessly and easily puncturing the thick rubber. It popped, releasing air, and with the same effortless ease, he pulled the thing free from her pauldron and tossed it aside. Venison squealed as he repeated the process with her second tire, until all her tires lay useless on the ground below her dangling, bound frame.

Though it was a little awkward considering the differences in their designs, Steeljaw silenced Venison with a hard kiss, letting his tongue push between her teeth. Venison moaned and kissed him back, her optics squeezing shut. His hands moved around her back, sunk in, and dragged down; lines of steel curled beneath his claws, taking with it flecks of paint. Venison cried into his mouth, and it vibrated against his tongue.

Then, without warning, Steeljaw stopped. Venison opened her optics, blinking. He stepped back, smiling kindly. “I think I’ll take you my way now, my dear,” he purred, gently wiping coolant from her plump lips. The knot in his unit was hard and pulsing; enough with the foreplay. He reached up, easily pulling one chain free from Venison’s right arm.

Steeljaw moved around the femme, admiring her frame. Circuits beneath armor he’d pulled away were glowing bright with arousal, occasionally flickering every time he ran his fingers down her backstrut. He held her with more gentleness this time, leaning down to place kisses across her back and shoulders, gently licking at the gashes he’d left behind.

“This won’t hurt as much, I promise,” Steeljaw whispered against the back of her neck before kissing it. He hoisted up one of her legs, positioned himself. Venison whimpered as he pushed his unit inside her valve. Quite easily; she already seemed prepped, ready and revving to go. He groaned, her calipers clenching down on his unit and the knot, pulling him in as deep as possible.

“Nnhh,” Venison groaned, her bound body obediently riding with the shallow, calculating thrusts inside her valve. She opened one optic, squinting. “Thh… Thunder…”

Steeljaw hadn’t been paying attention, too busy focusing on the task at hand. Each little thrust felt too slow, but he had to make sure this felt good for Venison, too. Soon he’d increase the pace and–

Steeljaw stopped thrusting and kissing, immediately going stiff inside Venison when Thunderhoof’s giant hands grabbed his waist from behind. Suddenly, the mafia don was pressed flush against his back, and Steeljaw could feel the mech’s erect unit rubbing against one thigh. He shivered, quickly shook his head and barked, “What’re you–”

"Ya didn’t make her overload,” Thunderhoof snickered, “s'part of the deal.” He looked over Steeljaw’s head at Venison. “Your turn, babe. Whatta want me t'do wit’ 'im?”

Venison swallowed. “K-Keep him… He feels good,” she giggled huskily.

Steeljaw growled. “Do we really need–”

"Frag him,” Venison said, her optics twinkling, “I wanna feel you both rocking inside me.”

“Sounds good t'me,” Thunderhoof said. He pushed his hand between Steeljaw’s legs, reaching for the cover over his valve. “Was kinda hopin’ we’d all get t'play together…”

“You–” Steeljaw winced as Thunderhoof pushed open his valve covering. He didn’t even realize he was wet until fingers gently swirled at the edges of his entrance. “Ahn…”

“Ready t'go, I say,” Thunderhoof interjected. “An’ not much you’s can do. What wit’ dat knot and all…”

Steeljaw cursed. He was right–and apparently he’d been spying on them. Steeljaw should have known. Of course he’d been sent out to keep an eye on things; why couldn’t he have been doing his job elsewhere?

“So let’s take care of it, huh?”

Steeljaw nearly howled as Thunderhoof just about thrust his entire unit inside him. He wasn’t quite ready; nonetheless, he jerked forward, his own unit pushing deeper inside Venison. Both cried out as Thunderhoof loomed in closer, one hand fondling both his partners. “Hey now,” he whispered against one of Steeljaw’s twitching, flattened ears, “this don’t mean ya gotta stop kissin’ da lady.”

Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the heat of Venison’s tight valve around his knotted unit, but Steeljaw… didn’t argue. He growled, and it sounded defiant, but beyond that, he played along. Though it was a bit difficult. Venison used her free hand to snatch him by the jowls, pull him into another deep kiss; her giggle tickled his lips, clashing with his groans as Thunderhoof ruthlessly pumped inside him, holding his hips in large hands.

Steeljaw considered himself a focused mech; an in-control sort of guy. But right now he was having the hardest time keeping himself from falling apart. Each thrust inside him sent an extra hard thrust inside Venison, who was keeping up much better than Steeljaw. He had to admire that. Eventually, she let his face go, but he couldn’t keep the kisses steady–just wet tongue clumsily running over lips and cheeks, and finally–

Steeljaw snarled, biting down on her shoulder where a tire had once been. Venison squealed and wrapped her one arm around him, throwing her legs up; they couldn’t close around both mechs pummeling one another.

“Dat it’s, dat’s it,” Thunderhoof groaned, optics squeezed tightly shut. His hips snapped hard against Steeljaw, pushing every last inch of his unit inside the panting Decepticon. He could feel climax fast approaching. He poured over the wolf-con’s back, one hand reaching out and groping what felt like Venison’s aft– “Eeeyyooo!” Thunderhoof overloaded with a triumphant cheer, spilling transfluid inside Steeljaw.

It lasted less than a minute, but Steeljaw felt exhausted as if they’d been doing this little three-way tango for an eternity. He fell slump against Venison, shaking; Thunderhoof snorted and with a small grunt, pulled himself free. He ignored the mess he made, smirking at the transfluid dripping from Steeljaw’s valve. Thunderhoof moved around his fearless leader, up to Venison’s side, the femme currently cradling the shaking mech.

“You’s overloaded yet, Vennie?” Thunderhoof asked, touching then kissing the bite Steeljaw left on her free shoulder. He gently went to removing the chains holding her off the ground, pausing each time to gently caress or lick the dents left by the binding.

Venison pursed her lips. “Not yet,” she sighed. “I think he’s still knotted.” She playfully poked Steeljaw’s ear with her newly freed hand. “You okay, boss?”

Steeljaw grumbled something. He still needed to overload, but–

“Lemme help you’s out,” Thunderhoof smirked. He lifted Steeljaw’s limp tail, held it firmly; with a snicker, he soundly slapped the Decepticon’s aft. Steeljaw yelped, jolting inside Venison, who squealed in response. Thunderhoof slapped him again–and again, each time Steeljaw bouncing and thrusting. “How’s dis, boss!?” he cackled, hand landing hard against Steeljaw’s wet valve. It stung, but another good, painful slap pushed his climax forward.

Thunderhoof squeezed the base of his tail and gave his rear one more deft smack, and with a howl, Steeljaw finally came.

Venison squealed, clenching around the unit filling her with transfluid. She bucked and rode it until the unit was milked damn near dry.

Steeljaw felt the swelling wear down, and with a grunt, he finally managed to pull himself free. He turned, getting right into Thunderhoof’s smug face. “What was that for!?” he snapped, claws clenched at his sides. He wanted to rip that grin off the stupid mafia don’s faceplates. “I didn’t need your–”

“Oh, boooys,” Venison whistled. Both mechs glanced back at her. The femme pouted, gesturing to her own unit. Free now, it was much smaller and chubbier than her companions’, but fully aroused. “Where’s _my_ happy ending?”

“If your 'sparkmate’ had given me a minute…” Steeljaw scowled.

“Where are our manners, ey?” Thunderhoof shook his head. “An’ what does the fair lady want?”

Venison grinned. “Think you can handle another round, boss?” she asked Steeljaw.

Steeljaw blinked wide optics. Before he knew it, he was suddenly on the ground on his back, Thunderhoof pinning his arms above his head.

“What!?” Steeljaw exclaimed.

“The lady wants what da lady wants,” Thunderhoof stated.

Venison pushed aside Steeljaw’s legs, crawling in between them. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” she said, optics glittering. She took the wolf-con by the hips.

Steeljaw gasped. “Oh, you can’t be serious–” Because after all they’d done, she still wasn’t sated? “ _Fine_! Just–hurry, before you wake anyone else!”

Venison giggled, lining up and gleefully pushing inside. Steeljaw hissed, rising off the ground; still sensitive. “You made him all nice an’ wet an’ warm!” Venison giggled, moving in sharp thrusts that had the Decepticon leader gasping and wriggling.

Thunderhoof winked. “Only the best for my li’l Vennie.” He reached over, took the femme by the chin.

Venison purred, leaning over Steeljaw and giving her boss a chaste kiss. Steeljaw snarled and she thrust in extra hard, momentarily stilling him.

Steeljaw, despite everything, was still a little damn angry. He needed to sleep, Thunderhoof needed to be on patrol. Venison should also be recharging. Or at least not… not doing this. But as before, he sort of… fell into the groove. And there was no denying the weird little tingle he got watching Thunderhoof and Venison so gently and tenderly kiss one another above him. Especially when being held down and fucked, respectively, by the two at the same time.

It’d been way too long since he fooled around, maybe that was it.

“Likin’ it?” Thunderhoof smirked, and now his hand was moving across Steeljaw’s throat, playfully rubbing at clenched tubes. “Maybe this’ll help?” A finger thrust down into a cord running down the length of his neck, and Steeljaw was surprised to find him yelping and spasming nearly off the ground. His unit, once depressurized and tired, twitched. Thunderhoof continued massaging that spot, and coupled with Venison riding inside him, rolling his hips and aft along the ground…

Shit. Was he going to be here _all night_?

Venison made a cute noise as she tensed up, suddenly, and Steeljaw prepared himself. Her overload was… much stronger than he anticipated. At least not as messy as it had been with Thunderhoof. But she made such an adorable whimper when she finished off, nearly collapsing on top of Steeljaw.

 _Finally_.

Steeljaw could finally take a moment to cycle some air, try and put things back in order. And he realized… What just happened? Seriously, one minute he’d heard a noise, went to investigate… Steeljaw was suppose to punish Thunderhoof for fooling around on the job. Venison, too. But instead, nearly forty minutes or so and a few orgasms later, he’d done just the opposite.

Or had he? These two were an awfully weird couple.

Thunderhoof pat Steeljaw gently on the cheek. “Yeah,” he said, and pulled Venison to his side with an arm draped over her shoulders, “dat just happened.”

Steeljaw could only blink and stare.


End file.
